The Mouse Island Marathon Read online

  Dear mouse friends,

  Welcome to the world of

  THE RODENT’S GAZETTE

  EDITORIAL STAFF

  Geronimo Stilton

  A learned and brainy

  mouse; editor of

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Thea Stilton

  Geronimo’s sister and

  special correspondent at

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Trap Stilton

  An awful joker;

  Geronimo’s cousin and

  owner of the store

  Cheap Junk for Less

  Benjamin Stilton

  Asweet and loving

  nine-year-old mouse;

  Geronimo’s favorite

  nephew

  THE MOUSE ISLAND

  MARATHON

  REST IN

  PIECES

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced

  into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by

  any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter

  invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For

  information regarding permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A.,

  Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan, Italy; e-mail [email protected],

  www.atlantyca.com.

  eISBN 978-0-545-39246-4

  Copyright © 2004 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Corso Como 15, 20154

  Milan, Italy.

  International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.

  English translation © 2007 by Atlantyca S.p.A.

  GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are

  copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights

  reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Based on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami.

  www.geronimostilton.com

  Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered

  trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark

  of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to

  www.stiltoncheese.com.

  Text by Geronimo Stilton

  Original title La maratona più pazza del mondo!

  Cover by Giuseppe Ferrario

  Illustrations by Valeria Turati

  Graphics by Merenguita Gingermouse

  Special thanks to Kathryn Cristaldi

  Interior design by Kay Petronio

  First printing, June 2007

  1

  HOLEY CHEESE ...

  It was a beautiful summer morning. The

  sun was shining like a round ball of cheddar

  in the sky. What a great day, I thought as I

  headed off for work.

  Then I missed the bus.

  I tried running after it,

  but I had to stop.

  My whiskers were

  sweating. And I

  could barely bieathe!

  Holey cheese, I was out of shape!

  Eventually, I made it to the office.

  Oops, I almost forgot to introduce

  myself. My name is Stilton,

  -

  2

  Geronimo Stilton. I am the publisher

  of The Rodent’s Gazette, the most famouse

  newspaper on Mouse Island.

  Anyway, I got to the office just as my

  Yes, I mean roared. She likes to ride her

  motorcycle indoors!

  “Wow, big brother, I just heard the

  news. When did you turn into such a

  SPORTSMOUSE?” she chattered, grinning.

  I shook my head. I definitely wasn’t a

  SPORTSMOUSE. I could barely chew a

  sister

  ROARED through the lobby.

  3

  cheese stick and walk at the same time.

  Just then, my cousin Trap strolled in. “Hey,

  Germeister. How’s the training going? Who

  would have thought a wimpy rodent like you

  would become such a SPORTSMOUSE?” he

  snickered.

  A minute later, my nephew Benjamin

  appeared. He tugged at my sleeve.

  “Uncle Geronimo, what are you doing

  in the office? A SPORTSMOUSE like you

  should be out running in the park. After all,

  you’re in training,” he SQUEAKED.

  4

  I twisted my tail up in a knot. Had my

  whole family gone crazy? The last time I

  went for a stroll in the park, I tripped over

  a pinecone and twisted my ankle. I was on

  crutches for three weeks!

  “would someone please tell me what

  you're all squeaking about!” I shouted,

  plopping down behind my desk.

  Before they could answer, a rodent strode

  into my office. He wore bicycle shorts,

  sunglasses and a whistle. I would know that

  mouse anywhere. It was my friend Champ

  Stronggpaws.

  CHAMP STRONGPAWS

  First Name: Champ

  Last Name: Strongpaws

  Background info: An all-around star

  a

  thlete. He’s into the latest training

  trends. He works for a sports radio station,

  and loves to get lazy rodents up and running.

  Sports: He does all kinds of endurance sports

  lik

  e cycling, running, and swimming. And he

  loves marathons!

  His advice: Eat right, sleep right, and keep

  t

  hose paws pumping.

  What he believes in: Exercise!

  His passion: Exploring new countries and

  getting to e

  xperience other cultures.

  His slogan: “Sports can make the world a better

  place!”

  His claim to fame: He built a super-fast bicycle

  t

  hat can seat five mice.

  His dream: To explore the ten most beautiful

  countr

  ies in the world in ten days, with ten

  different bicycles.

  A MARATHON?

  Champ slapped me on the back. I

  checked for broken bones. Did I mention

  that Champ is a super-muscular mouse?

  “Oops,” he snickered. “Guess I don’t

  know my own strength. Speaking of strength,

  we’ll need to build up those puny muscles of

  yours, Mr. G. After all, I’ve entered you in

  THE MOUSE ISLAN MARATHON

  Marathon? I blinked. I could never run a

  marathon. I couldn’t even chew cheese and

  wiggle my ears at the same time.

  But before I could protest, the door to

  my office burst open. The entire staff of The

  Rodent’s Gazette marched inside.

  They LIFTED me up into the air and

  carried me out of the room. The outer office

  had been decorated with tons of balloons

  and colorful streamers, and there were lots

  of snacks!

  I was just about to stuff my snout with

  a few yummy doughnuts when Champ

  slapped them out of my paw. />
  “NONE OF THAT Mr. G,” he

  ordered. "You can’t run a marathon unless

  you eat healthy foods.”

  Then he offered me a carrot stick.

  Oh, why did Champ pick me to do

  something athletic? “So, um, how long is

  this marathon race thing?” I muttered.

  Champ grinned. “It’s nothing, Mr. G.

  Just a mere twenty-six point two miles.”

  I almost choked on my carrot. “twenty -

  six miles!! Twenty - six miles

  ”

  7

  8

  I squeaked. “What kind of a race is twenty-six

  miles long?

  THAT'

  S CRAZY

  ”

  Champ’s grin grew even wider. “That’s

  right, Mr. G. And they call the Mouse Island

  Marathon the craziest marathon ever!”

  I pictured myself running. But not in the

  race —away from Champ Strongpaws! Far,

  far away where no one would ever find me.

  Then I fainted.

  Kreamy O’Cheddar, my editor in chief,

  had to revive me with her Parmesan cheese-

  scented smelling salts.

  ONE TWO, ONE

  TWO, ONE TWO ...

  The next morning, I was snoring away

  peacefully in my bed when the doorbell rang.

  one bleary eye. Who would be ringing my

  doorbell at such an unmousely hour?

  I shuffled to the front door in a daze.

  Champ was standing on my WELCOME

  RAT mat. “Wakey-wakey, Mr. G! Training

  begins today!” he screeched.

  I thought I must be having a nightmare.

  But then Champ began to sing. Loudly.

  Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

  I opened

  I put my paws over my ears, hoping

  Champ would take the hint. Unfortunately,

  Champ dragged me out .... He made me run around the block .... I felt sick ....

  Champ didn’t seem to care.

  He dragged me out onto my front stoop in

  my pajamas. “Come on, Mr. G., it’s time for

  your morning run.” I was mortified. What

  if someone saw me?

  Champ’s squeak interrupted my thoughts.

  “One two, one two, KEEP THOSE KNEES

  UP

  !” he yelled. He ran alongside of me,

  checking his stopwatch every few seconds.

  I felt sick. My muscles were aching. My

  head was pounding. Even my fur hurt.

  Champ made me run around the block

  thirty times. Finally, I collapsed outside the

  local flower shop. Green Paws, the florist,

  came running out.

  11

  I passed out!

  “Mr. Stilton, are you feeling OK?” he

  asked worriedly. “You look a little

  around the leaves, as we say in the flower

  business.”

  I wanted to tell him I was not OK. Far

  from it. But I was so exhausted, I could

  hardly breathe. Sweat dripped down my fur

  like water from a leaky shower faucet.

  Two minutes later, I was hit with another

  shower.

  green

  Champ dumped a whole vase of cold

  He dumped cold water

  on my head.

  11

  12

  water on my head.

  “Aah” I yelled.

  Champ looked satisfied. “Now, let’s see

  here, for the rest of the week, your training

  program will include a five-mile run, three

  hundred laps in the pool, and two hours of

  weightlifting. That’ll separate the strong mice

  from the weak, right, Mr. G?” he chuckled.

  I wanted to reply, but I was too busy

  bawling my eyes out.

  Oh how did i get myself into such

  a mess!

  13

  YOUR TURN,

  G

  ERONIMO!

  The next morning, Champ took me to

  Fastfur Fields, a sports complex for serious

  athletes. I, Geronimo Stilton, am not a

  serious athlete.

  In the afternoon, Champ took me to

  play soccer with some of his friends. I got hit

  in the head with the ball twenty-five times!

  Then we were off to Crunchers, New

  Mouse City’s most exclusive gym. Champ

  made me lift weights. I fainted.

  Finally, Champ took me to a huge indoor

  swimming pool. I was doing great until he

  took my rubber ducky float away.

  The serious sportsmice at Fastfur Fields!

  I got hit in the head with the ball twenty-five times!

  Champ made me lift weights at Crunchers.

  Then Champ made me jump off

  the highdive and swim laps!

  22

  24/7

  Days went by. Every morning was the

  same. Champ woke me up at 6 A.M. to go

  running. I started to go to bed in my sweatsuit

  just so I could sleep for a few extra minutes.

  Did I mention I’m not a morning mouse?

  But Champ wouldn’t let up. He made me

  run the same route every day. I ran all over

  the streets of New Mouse City. I finished at

  the New Mouse City Public Library. Have you

  ever been there? You have to climb up sixty-

  seven steps to even get to the front door.

  I didn’t climb. I CRAWLED.

  Champ ran behind me, shouting advice.

  “Don't give up! Don't give in! Don’t give

  a strange rodent your phone number. It’s

  just not safe,

  ” he babbled.

  23

  My family loved to watch me run. Trap

  waited for me by his kitchen window. He

  put a piece of cheese on a fishing line

  and dangled it above my head. “Come

  and get it, Gerry Berry!” he taunted.

  Thea chased after me on her

  motorcycle. “Better move your

  tail, little brother, or I"LL RUN

  YOU OVER

  ” she teased.

  Then there was Benjamin.

  Every day he met me at his

  school bus stop with a delicious yogurt

  shake. “This is for you, Uncle. You’re doing

  great!” he cheered.

  Thank goodness for my dear sweet

  nephew.

  After a few weeks, something amazing

  happened. I didn’t huff and puff when I ran

  anymore. I didn’t feel faint. I didn’t CRY

  24

  uncontrollably when I got out of bed in the

  morning. Well, except for the day I tripped

  over my catfur rug and broke my pawnail.

  Yes, I, Geronimo Stilton, was starting to

  feel like maybe I wasn"t such a sports

  failure after all"

  Of course, working out with Champ

  wasn’t easy. He was in my snout 24/7. ;He

  told me when to run when to rest

  thrown out all of the fattening food in my

  refrigerator, even my Cheesy Chews. I was

  heartbroken. Still, I had to admit I was

  getting STRONGER. I had more

  energy. After three weeks, I even climbed up

  the steps to the library without stopping!

  I surprised everyone, especially myself.

  I

  DESERVED AREWARD

  Now

  if only I could find those Cheesy Chews . . .

  And even what to eat

  Cham
p had

  24 /7

  I even climbed the steps to the

  library without stopping!

  26

  I WANT TO GO

  HOOOOME!

  Months passed, and Champ made me

  train harder every day. Soon it was time to

  set off for the marathon.

  The race was going to take place in the city

  of Nibbles. Nibbles is on the opposite side of

  Mouse Island, overlooking Stray Cat Harbor.

  not twenty million, but it was super-long.

  I tried to take a nap, but Champ wanted

  to give me advice about the marathon.

  “Now listen up, Mr. G. Whatever you do, don’t

  worry about the twenty-six long, exhausting,

  painful, backbreaking miles ahead of you.

  Don’t worry if you’re moving slower than a

  The plane ride took TWENTY

  MILLION HOURS

  . Well, OK, maybe

  27

  snail with arthritis. Don’t

  worry if you feel weaker

  than an a n t with a broken

  leg. Don’t worry if you’re more tired than a

  hibernating sloth. Just

  concentrate on finishing

  the race,” he squeaked.

  Oh, why had I agreed to

  enter this crazy race? I wasn’t

  an athlete. I was a newspaper mouse.

  “I want to go home!” I sobbed.

  But Champ just grinned. “Don’t be

  ridiculous, Mr. G. I didn’t spend all that time

  training you for nothing. You'll do great”

  To take my mind off things, I decided to

  read the paper. Bad idea. Staring up at me

  from the front page was a photo of a huge,

  terrifying cat. Felinius ferociousmus,

  otherwise known as Fifi the cat, was an

  1. Brimstone Lake

  2. Roastedrat Volcano

  3. Frozen Fur Park

  The city of Nibbles is on the westernmost tip of Mouse Island. It

  overlooks the Rattenburg River and Stray Cat Harbor, famous for